


Shinobi doing what they do best: Spying

by drelfina



Series: Intel Chuunin [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: Shimon gets bored on Receptionist duty.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. filthy porn ahead? 
> 
> Whew.

Shimon was in the office as usual, sulking for being put into receptionist duty. He hated it. It meant people came by so often that he couldn't very convincingly pretend to be doing work while writing poetry. On the other hand, people came by and he got to meet people. Especially pretty people.

Shimon tallied it up, and it looked like a 46% pro-receptionist duty, and 54% against. So he sulked as only he knew how

He leaned on one knuckle, and ran his other hand through his bangs. Slow, languid, and almost pouting. He was staring straight at the security camera, which he knew was being manned by none other than Tatami Iwashi, and if he was even luckier, Morino Ibiki.

Bored, his entire countenance said. Bored and sulky.

Then his fingers came to rest against the corner of his mouth, just a moment, long slender fingers just smudged with the slightest hint of ink. Then he was leaning back against his chair, tossing his hair back, so most of his face was exposed, face and neck, tilting his head further so he could stare at the ceiling and sigh.

That camera had very sensitive sound-pickup.

It was a slow day, and his shift had only just started. He could feel the soft ends of his hair trail across his neck, his collarbone, and his lips parted in another soft sigh. One of the problems of meeting people was that they had to come by first. And they weren’t. Who came into Intel anyway, and deep into the Forgery department, unless they already knew what they needed?

He let a hand drift down his side, stroking the thick material of his vest, then rubbing at the side of his pants under the table. He sighed, shifting, eyes drifting half-closed. He wanted his fan. He didn’t bring it with him to work, but he felt somewhat odd without it – he used it to express subtleties in emotion and tone, and without something in his hands, he felt… almost naked. He picked up a pen, let his fingers twirl it, feeling the long smooth bamboo between his fingers, and pressed the tip to his lips, tapping his mouth, as if deep in thought.

His index finger caught a loose thread in his trouser-seam. He bit the end of the pen, frowning slightly, and forcibly releasing his breath in a long, drawn out sigh. By the gods, he was going to have to get a new pair of pants. He hated it when things got run down, and a little thread meant the whole seam was going to come undone and then…

He shifted again, trying to feel down the seam, pick out the thread. Of course, he thought, sighing, he probably couldn’t afford another set of uniform. His budget was really tight this month – it was a waste, honestly. Maybe he could get it repaired. He shifted again, letting himself slide down just a little, so he could feel all the way down. Maybe it wouldn’t unravel.

Shimon had to spread his legs a little, to keep his balance, and as he did so, his right shin hit the corner of the drawers. Hard.

He gasped, sharply, and bit down on his lower lip, trying not to mewl at the lancing of pain. Stupid, stupid desk.

He had to lean down, further, curling his leg in, and gingerly rubbing at his shin. That hurt. He had a low pain-tolerance level, and it was hard work trying not to whine like a child whenever he got something worse than a paper cut. He inhaled, trying to keep his breathing even and then sat up again, biting his lip and smoothing down the front of his uniform.

Well. At least he didn’t look too ruffled, he thought, as he dropped the pen back onto the table, sighing. Lunch break couldn’t come fast enough.

~ * ~ * ~

Yajirobee had to bite down on his groan, shifting in his seat. Gods, that little chuunin in the Forgery reception – he’d never thought that anyone would do that sort of thing. It wasn’t exactly public, of course, but this was monitored. The other man should know that.

Hijiri Shimon was just so hot, he had to admit. Pretty and hot and making all those little sounds, shifting and flushing… Damn, why did every other department have the pretty ones? A pretty new chuunin who was shifting and flushing and crying out with tiny little sounds… Dammit.

He glanced up at the other screens, giving them a proper cursory glance before going back to studying the little file he had on Shimon.

Survelliance had to know who was who in what department at any given moment. Granted, it made them seem like a computer, but those who worked with direct survelliance video had been trained to memorise and recognise every face who worked in any one department. And Hijiri Shimon looked exactly like his photo-ID – young, androgynous and pretty. He looked up at the clock. Lunch break now. He should get to … know Shimon better. It made surveillance more efficient.

“Taking my break now, Tadao,” Yajirobee said, shoving his chair aside and stretching. “Take over my cameras, yeah?”

“Sure thing, lazy-bones,” his colleague said, tapping his fingers over the console. “Don’t take an hour, yeah? No third guy today, dammit, and I want my lunch after this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yajirobee said, giving him a lazy three-fingered salute.


End file.
